Dear Aven,
This month has brought some big changes for us, and I need to stop and thank you for being such a flexible and accommodating baby. We packed up and moved out of our house, then moved into Uncle Tyler and Auntie's apartment for 2 weeks, then moved to Muma and Poppa's, where we still are! At the apartment I couldn't believe how well you slept ... they live on the intersection of two highways and the trucks and snowlpows going by sounded like jets taking off! You did struggle a little bit with me leaving the room after putting you in bed, mostly because the floors were very creaky and it woke you up and made you realize I was leaving. I had to become an expert floor-creak-locater, otherwise I would remain, trapped, in the room where you were sleeping! At Muma and Poppa's house you have been sleeping better than you have in your entire life. It's crazy, because you're in a playpen, in the same room as me. And yet you sleep from 7:30 to 6:30 straight? With only a slight peep now and then? I'm baffled. Especially because a yappy dog lives here.
Muma has a fox that lives on top of her cupboards, and you love him. We'll say "where is your fox? Wave to your fox!" and you'll scan all the vases until you see him, then you'll break into a huge smile and wave to him! You now have an adorable variation to the wave... we call it the "no, no, no!". It's when you combine the pointing with the waving into a cute little finger-wag scold.. and now that we've said "no, no, no!" every time you do it, you know to make the gesture of it when we say no! Stop being so cute. It's really not fair to any of us.
Although you're cute, you also have a wee temper. The other day I was feeding you some carrots on a little plastic baby fork, and you took the fork right out of my hand and fed yourself (this is amazing, by the way, but not the point of my story). Since then you've continued to do this little trick, but when I go to take the fork back and put more food on it, you get VERY. POSSESSIVE. OF. THE. FORK. You hold it with an iron grip, make a menacing whine noise, give me a threatening look and WIELD THAT FORK AT ME. The other day when you did it in front of Daddy, he looked at me in shock and said "I'm a little scared!" Oh, my little monkey. You are so much personality in a tiny little package.
You have also started responding to a game that Daddy and his brothers all played when they were little. We say "how big is Aven?" in romanian (I have no idea how to spell it, but it sounds like "COO-tay de MAR-dia!" and you throw your hands up into the air and smile. The first few times we did it you had no idea what was going on... but it didn't take long for you to catch on. HOWEVER... you are usually selective about wanting to respond when we ask.. even though I KNOW you know what I'm asking! I can literally see the request register in your brain and your eyes twinkle and you smirk a little bit. And then do nothing. On the other hand, sometimes out of nowhere you'll throw your hands up and give me a wide-eyed, expectant look so that I'll say it!
This month you also taught yourself how to play hide-and seek... you were in the bathroom with me and you grabbed hold of the shower curtain and pulled it between you and I... then pulled it away and laughed! I said "where's Aven?" and you did it again! Funny that I never taught you this, but you found it hilarious.
Your love affair with the Small Hole has not only continued, but it has escalated. Nevermind the first 8 pages in
Pat the Bunny, Mom. Just get to the good part... where Paul puts his finger through Mummy's ring. That's the best one of all! You love to play with Muma's steel colander because it has hundreds of tiny holes... you sit there and caress them like old friends. And now that we're giving you a bath at Muma's house, where there are jets in the tub, you're just in heaven. A bath... that's fun on its own. A bath surrounded by small holes? JACKPOT.
As we get closer and closer to your first birthday, the more I want to hold you tightly and not let it happen. I have tasted the bittersweetness that I've heard so many parents marvel at constantly. How does this happen? How can my little newborn become this child? One day she didn't know what I was saying.. the next day she knows a phrase and follows it like a command! There's something about the speed at which children grow that rips across the surface of a parent's strength and security, and exposes a very raw vulnerability. Emotion like this isn't necessarily a bad thing... in fact, it causes us to appreciate our blessings and try to live each day more fully.. but it still leaves us open to so much heartache and mourning.
I wouldn't have it any other way.
Love,
Mommy
